


just the kind of girl who'll get messed up with you

by oddishly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's got the prettiest, neediest fuck in America all tied up and spread open and squirming in his bed. Just waiting for him to come back with lube.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just the kind of girl who'll get messed up with you

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Правильная девчонка для шалостей](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180841) by [Wayward_jr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_jr/pseuds/Wayward_jr), [Wincent_Cester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wincent_Cester/pseuds/Wincent_Cester)



It wouldn't be a problem if Dean wasn't already wearing Sam's dress.

"Dude," says Dean, and squirms against his ties. "You're the one that put me in it."

Or if Dean hadn't just spent half an hour humming Metallica around Sam's cock.

"Can't help being good at what I do," says Dean, and squirms harder.

Or if Sam had thought to buy more lube any time before now.

"Thought you were the brains of the operation, Sammy."

"Look, just -- "

Dean arches up on the mattress and drops back down. The dress is rucked up around his waist, sweat and come and curse words dripping down him, skin flushed and an endless moan on his lips.

"Be right back," Sam blurts, and bolts out the door.

The motel clerk is the same old lady who spent ten minutes admiring Dean and his pretty girlfriend earlier in the day. She was particularly taken with Sam's blue sundress, and told him in a loud aside that it was nothing to be ashamed of for a lady to have a bit of meat on her bones.

"Hi," says Sam when she realises he's there and slams her novel closed with a squeak. The picture on the front reminds him, belatedly, to hope his lipstick isn't smeared. Judging by the look on her face, Sam guesses the answer to that concern isn't a good one.

He wipes a hand across the back of his mouth and gives her his most ingratiating smile.

Her gaze travels down his (crumpled) shirt (Dean's crumpled shirt), the collar dogeared, buttons done up wrong (you try doing better running down a hallway), shirt tails hanging out of his pants and his fly -- 

Sam clears his throat and tugs the zip up. Her eyes stay focused between his legs. "Sorry to interrupt your reading, ma'am," he says loudly, deciding that polite stopped being an option right around the time she stared his hard-on to death. "I was wondering if -- um, if -- "

This is why Dean should be the one in charge of keeping them stocked up. Sam stares hard at the cabinet behind the desk, wishing he could have kept a whisper of his old powers for moments like this. Maybe if he concentrates the lube will jump out at him anyway.

He reminds himself that he's got the prettiest, neediest fuck in America all tied up and spread open and squirming in his bed. Just waiting for him to come back with lube. "We've run out of. Um. Can I have some -- "

Someone wraps their arms around Sam's waist from behind. "Lube, please, Gladys," Dean says sweetly over Sam's yelp. He tightens his arms and presses a sticky kiss to Sam's jaw. Sam spares a moment to check Dean's still wearing the dress, filthy and kinda damp. Apparently-Gladys absolutely cannot be allowed to see what it looks like now, so Sam tries to spread his body wider while staring determinedly at the floor. "And condoms. The biggest box you've got. Sammy here's a bit of a stud. Aren't you, Sam."

Sam waits until they're back in their room before taking that one up with Dean. "'A bit of a stud'?" he says, knees on either side of Dean's waist, fixing first his left wrist then his right back up to the headboard. He rocks his hips down as he tests the ties. Not that testing them did anything last time. "A bit?"

"Baby, you know you keep me satisfied," says Dean, and sets right back to writhing around on the bed for Sam. He waggles his eyebrows.

"Yeah," says Sam, and proceeds to spend all night proving it. 

The dress doesn't make it.


End file.
